Smooth Reflection
by CaideSin
Summary: Do you regret what you saw? [AxelRoxas, DemyxRoxas, AU]
1. Chapter 1

**Story Notes: **This is not historically accurate. _(This is barely, not really, culturally accurate. It is comparable to Samurai Champloo.) _

There a few things I can tell you that are true in this reality's timeline:

There are no commercial airlines.  
The British are in Egypt.  
There are Muslim groups who wish to remove the Egyptians and take Egypt for themselves.  
Tensions, as always, are high between England and the Isles.

Almost the entirety of the story takes place in Venice, Italy if that helps anyone visualize. If not, Venice is not really one city, but many islands. They're connected by a series of bridges, alleyways, and waterways.

When 'the Horn' is mentioned they are referring to the Horn of Africa.

* * *

**Chapter 1 **

A beautiful girl had boarded the ship back in Jesolo. She had worn a white sun dress and long auburn her. Her blue eyes had danced with the waves and, as they had set sail, she had looked out over the sea with pure joy. Demyx had licked his lips, even though they had not felt dry; he had caught the taste of salt.

He had made sure to stay nearby her, pretending to go about his duty, while sneaking surreptitious glances at her. She had caught him once, looking up at him and lowering her lashes sheepishly. Her pale lips had still pulled into a smile. Then she had hurriedly turned back towards the wondrous sea.

Demyx had wondered how he could touch her…and as they had drawn close to their harbor at Venice, he had seen his chance. Leaned as she had been over the railing, watching the foam rise up from the boat's path, her hands would have been crushed. Demyx had placed his leathery hands over her delicate wrists and gruffly told her to pull her hands back. She had flushed, barely meeting his eyes. Then he had helped her off and watched after her, until it was then time to set sail once more.

* * *

He and Axel had been apprenticed to the same ship when they were young. At age ten they began their duties as cabin boys; cleaning, helping the cook, lighting the lamps, mending sails and nets. 

Demyx fell in love with the sea and all her harsh manners. Axel did not. He loathed the work, and what he loathed more was that he could not leave until he was eighteen. The only blessing he counted was that he had a clown like Demyx as his friend and companion.

It was somewhere on the Horn that Demyx acquired his sitar. Even before he had properly learned how to play it, it became their entertainment. They spent their days writing and singing awful, bawdy songs. Sometimes, when a crewmember wandered past, they would acquire another new wonderfully lewd phrase from their suggestions.

However, patience had never been, and never would be, one of Axel's virtues. Eight years on the sea, he _hated_ the water, was too long. At sixteen, he took matters into his own hands, or, rather, matters took him into their hands.

On the sea, with only your crewmen, there were only two ways to keep from going completely mad. Fall in love with the sea, or fall in love with the men. Demyx chose one and Axel chose the other and when a wealthy, handsome merchant came aboard Axel went head over heels.

Fifteen-year-old Axel jumped ship with Luxord Godlear in Malta.

From then on, Demyx did not hear from him often. A letter left in the care of so-and-so in Italy, a parcel left at such-and-such hotel in France.

The one message Demyx remembered most vividly was the one he had received two months after his eighteenth birthday; he had just enlisted full-time on a ketch.

'Dear Demyx. Happy belated birthday. Luxord has left me with all his debts. I have stepped in it deep. I'm moving to Italy and hoping they never find me. Once I get an address I will get it to you somehow. Your friend, Axel.'

Demyx had never been able to decide whether the letter was comical or disheartening.

* * *

He was back in Venice again, but, this time, he jumped off the ship, his boots touching the ground for the first time in months. Venice was always where he got off for his furloughs. Venice was where Axel's little inn awaited. 

He worked his way quickly through the crowded docks, carrying nothing more on his back than his clothes and his sitar, he paused only to stop a retreating pickpocket and take the money for his own. Once free of the thronging crowd, his feet traced the familiar path on their own; he did not even need to glance at the piazza names.

Axel had made out well in this place, but, then again, he had always done well for himself, being cunning and resourceful as he was. Demyx felt the smile pulling at his face. He loved the sea, but a friend's company was also welcome too, and it had been a very long time.

Axel's small inn, The Flurry of Dancing Flames, was like most of its stock, a common room on the first floor complete with hearth, well-used tables, and a strip of bar against the back wall where the weary could thoroughly drown their sorrows. It was the upper levels that housed the resting and sleeping guests.

When Demyx came to the worn wooden door, he urged it open, letting in a warm draft. He pushed it shut behind him courteously and began to head for the bar. Something, nevertheless, caught his eye and he stopped dead at the center of the room. There was someone occupying the barstool farthest to the left. Axel reserved that seat especially for…

_Oh, for the love of God._ Demyx thought, panicking. _Another one._

That seat, in particular, was saved for whoever Axel's current romantic flame was.

* * *

Axel was in possession of a string of bad relationships longer than Italy herself. What is more, Axel seemed to relish it as an accomplishment. He took on each relationship as if it were a challenge. How long could he take a fucked up relationship? He took some kind of thrill away from it when he survived them and they were always very, very unpleasant. 

Demyx's last furlough had lasted for three months and he had watched the man go through many, all in a nice neat row.

It had begun with beautiful Larxene. She had been an awful woman from the start: petty, sadistic and then she had betrayed Axel for an abusive former lover, Marluxia, who Axel had promptly begun to court.

That air had only just begun to clear when Axel started something with a local politician. Zexion had been quiet, reserved and somewhat conservative. He had not seemed at all a match for loud, radical Axel. Nonetheless, sometimes opposites attracted? When that coupling had failed, Axel had swiftly begun to put the moves on Zexion's bodyguard, Lexaeus, whom he had come to know. After Zexion's assassination, the relationship had been far too strained to last.

The next man who had appeared was Xigbar, who had seemed far older than any of the other men Axel had been associated with previously. They did not found out until later, when Axel had begun seeing another politician, Zexion's former opponent, Xemnas, that Xigbar had been the one to assassinate Zexion and Xemnas had been the employer.

Then there was the flickering liaison with Axel's half-brother, Reno. Demyx did not like to think about it, especially not since the strings also connected with Reno's best friend and partner, Rude.

Of course, Demyx could not forget the time that Axel had acquired a scientist as his new beau. When Demyx had discovered that Vexen had somehow been acquiring some very cheap meat-products for the inn, Demyx had not been able to eat there again until that particular flame had burned itself out.

* * *

Demyx was not sure how long had stood still, staring at the back of the new creature Axel had brought home, but, apparently, it was too long. Naminé poked him with a fork. 

"Demyx? Are you all right?"

He turned to regard her with horror, reminded of another of Axel's pathetic, horrible, vile, men. Xaldin, Demyx felt a laugh rising in his throat. He had seemed wonderful, very articulate and romantic to boot. He had swept Axel off his feet, even if his antics had made Demyx want to vomit. Quite wonderful until they had discovered he was a flesh peddler. While fleeing from the law, he had left Naminé in Axel's care.

"Who is that, Naminé?" He pointed vigorously at the new one. "Why haven't you frightened him away yet?"

The experiences he had listed gave one the impression that Axel preferred men, which he did, but there were also many young women in the town who spit on the ground when they heard the name 'Axel'.

Yuffie, Tifa, Esmeralda, they had thought Saïx was a woman but had turned out otherwise, Alice, Rinoa, Rikku, Jane—etc. _ad nauseum_.

"I tried!" Naminé protested. "But he doesn't mind me at all. He doesn't do much of anything. Axel adores him though, I felt just terrible being rude to him."

Demyx gibbered uselessly, but somehow composed himself. "All right, I'll try."

"No." Her words were unexpected. "Please, Demyx, just talk to him first."

Oh God, Demyx realized forlornly. "He's won you over too."

"No," she insisted. "Just talk to him."

Demyx gave her a hard, scrutinizing look. "He'd best be prince charming, girl."

Naminé laughed faintly. "I'll go fetch Axel, he's in the back scolding Leon again."

Demyx watched her small frame scamper off into the kitchen area, and as he drew nearer to the bar he could hear Axel yelling at the cooks.

In a sudden flurry, the redhead burst from the scullery, hurrying to greet his friend.

"Demyx, you did not tell your old wife you were coming!"

The man perched upon the 'lover's' stool did not so much as look up and Axel continued to yammer.

"Oh, the place is a mess. I am a mess! Just look at me. Oh, how I have missed you! Roxas?"

At the sound of his name, the new boy glanced over. "Yes?"

"This is Demyx," Axel crowed, unable to control his delight. His hands worked furiously behind the bar without his attention. It had been nearly sixteen years since they'd parted from the decks and he knew what drink Demyx liked. "My sailor friend. I'm glad he's in town to meet you."

"Don't expect him to last long?" Demyx considered dryly.

His friend's eyes shot up like poison tipped arrows. "That isn't what I meant."

"I don't expect _him_ to last long," Roxas murmured and Demyx was not sure if he was serious or not, however, Axel did not seem bothered. Demyx turned on his stool to regard the boy.

Roxas seemed a bit younger than Axel's usual man. He was very pale, but when Demyx tried to imagine him sun-browned he came up with a ridiculous picture, so he supposed that was for the best. With silver-gold hair and blue eyes he was obviously not a native Italian, then again, neither was Axel.

When Axel plunked the cold drink down before him, Demyx and Roxas' eyes met. In a short flashing moment, Demyx realized he was being studied in just the same way. The realization made him shift uneasily.

"Well, how did you find this one?" he grumbled, hunching over his drink.

"Water-taxi, love at first sight," Axel grinned.

"He is a hopeless liar," Roxas intervened. "He followed me around like a lost puppy for a week until I took pity on him."

"Well," the redhead began to admit. "I fell in love with him at first sight. It is most certainly not mutual. He still hates me, can you believe Demyx? That is how I know we are meant to be."

"That's idiocy, Axel. Do you still smoke cocaine?" Demyx inquired reprovingly.

Axel loosed a dramatized sigh and Demyx was beginning to believe that, perhaps, he really was in love. Axel had never before acted this way. He had never sighed and he had never talked about love at first sight. All the others had been 'I was drunk and randy, Demyx' or 'he was drunk and randy, Demyx' or 'she was the cheapest walker on the street, Demyx'.

"How long are you on land?" Axel wondered, at last. He wandered a ways down the bar to wash some glasses.

"Three months," Demyx reply was nearly automated. "Then we sail for Cairo, we'll be taking a shipment around the horn after that." He took the luggage from his back and set it to the floor by the legs of his stool.

"You will stay here, I assume?" the redhead continued. He found his dossier and ran his finger down the list. He had always let Demyx for free, now he only searched for an empty room.

"I am going home," Roxas' sudden announcement and movement toward the door made Axel's head shoot up from his work. For some reason, however, the man did not follow after him. He only watched with the expression of something strange and bittersweet painted onto his face.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Rox," he called quietly and when the door was shut, he looked away as if he were in pain. Demyx felt confused and a bit afraid for his friend. Where had the confident, abrasive Axel gone off to? Could he possibly be lost at sea? Drowning in the depths of Roxas' eyes?

"How has Venice been since last?" Demyx wondered around the rim of his drink, he hoped to pull his friend away from whatever was haunting him so.

"Same, same. More and more Americans are making the voyage across the sea. Tourism is increasing, the foreigners are a nuisance." Axel's response was absentminded, at its best.

Naminé brushed by and gave Demyx a worried look, motioning frantically at her employer.

"Tell me truthfully, what is with the boy?" The sailor was not entirely sure he wanted to know, especially not after the smile that spread on Axel's face.

"The taxi is a lie. I was at the dock to pick up a shipment, actually. I saw him leaving a passenger ship, you know how it is, a pickpocket came right up, but he noticed. He really kind of beat the poor kid bloody. He was kind of beautiful with the blood on his knuckles." He shook his head, as if warding off the reverie. "Well, then I really did follow him around like a dog until he finally agreed to have dinner with me." Axel let out a humorless murmur that might have been laughter, once upon a time. "Hells. I don't want this one to end badly. You know me, glutton for punishment, but…not this one."

Demyx raised an eyebrow. "What's so special about this one?"

Axel scratched at his scalp, trying to pull the right words out. "He doesn't…he hasn't got faith in anything. He just lives his life by himself and that's the way he wants it. He doesn't want to let anyone in. He's like one of those fantastic birds we used to see at the markets and he's caged himself. I want to open up the doors so he can fly out and know freedom. He's too pretty to cage himself behind those ugly iron bars."

"It's his looks then?" It wasn't that Roxas wasn't more beautiful than most women Demyx had ever seen, but he'd never had the affinity for men like Axel.

"No," Axel shook his head with rebuke. "It isn't. You have to talk to him, Demyx. Sometimes, when I get him going on something I can coax this…this thing out of him. Sometimes he just sings." When Axel looked away his eyes did a funny wavering thing. It was not the type of funny that one associated with laughter, it was queer, strange.

"You sound entirely love-struck. Who are you and where have you taken Axel?" Demyx said in horror.

"Naminé says the same," Axel scrubbed an anxious hand back through his hair.

Demyx was unsure of what else to say. "You never do these relationship things right."

"I know. Let's…play something on your sitar, or I'll kick you out."

There was the Axel he knew.

* * *

Demyx went off to bed with a warm buzzing in his veins from drink. He flopped down gratefully into one of Axel's warm beds and was soon off to sleep, all thoughts of Axel and his new romance far from his mind. 

In the morning, however, he was reminded of it quite efficiently. For when he came down the creaking stairs, yawning and rubbing at his bed-tussled hair, he spotted the boy at one of the tables, quietly eating breakfast.

"Thought he went home," Demyx called, his voice still rough with sleep.

The blond child glanced over at him, his cheeks just a little bit rounder from a full mouth. He really was pleasant to look at, even if Demyx had no faith at all in his underlying personality.

Roxas obviously had no intentions of replying to him, and Demyx had not really wanted an answer, but Axel decided to give one all the same.

"Somehow is cupboards have gone bare while he wasn't looking," he said. There was an open note of affection in his nasal voice. "He never does take care of himself. I have to feed him so he doesn't waste away!"

Demyx raised an eyebrow and he and Axel joined Roxas at the table. "Did you actually make it, or did Leon?"

The redhead seemed as if he wanted to be affronted, but he could not pull the expression to his face. "Of course I made the love of my life breakfast."

Demyx caught the exasperated sigh that Roxas emitted at the words 'love of my life'. It was bemusing how the boy did not seem to want Axel's attentions to his person. Demyx could not understand the feeling at all. When he had been a boy he had loved to be in groups with others, giving and receiving all sorts of notice. The ship's crew was much the same, only difference being the tightness of their knit little community. Roxas seemed to want to draw back into a corner and be left well enough alone at all times.

"Be careful, Roxas," Demyx advised, winking broadly, just as he would have to a beautiful girl he was propositioning. "It might be poisoned."

Even that did not earn him a reaction from the boy. He felt that stir in his belly and he pondered it while Axel went to fetch him his own breakfast. Why was the boy so hell bent on stoicism? And why was he so set on seeing him smile?

When the food was before him, his focus shifted to filling his stomach. He knew Axel was a fine cook, but as business had increased for the Flame he'd had less and less time to practice. Then, one day, he had realized he had no time at all and that was how they had acquired Leon.

When that boy had appeared to inquire about the job he had looked more like a wino than a chef, but he had impressed Axel easily enough. They only argued to the day because Leon had eyes for Naminé. The girl was quite open to his courtship, but Axel would not hear of it, and, as both their employer and Naminé's guardian, he well should have been obeyed. Leon was not known for his subservience however.

The swinging doors leading to the kitchen creaked and Naminé herself entered the room. Demyx gave her a dry, knowing stare and she shrugged.

"Good morning, everyone," she greeted cheerfully, coming to join them at the table. On Sunday morning the common was usually just as empty, the other guests having gone down to the church.

Axel and Demyx were as superstitious as they came, but they weren't god-fearing men by any means. They were sailors and that was a religion all its own, in their opinion.

Demyx gave Roxas another once-over, wondering why he was not also at the morning service. He considered questioning it, but he as uncivilized as he was, he still knew that politics and religion were taboo topics for casual mealtime conversation.

"Do you have any plans for today, Demyx?" Naminé inquired of him putting her elbows on the table and propping up her chin, looking the most curious kitten.

"Nay, I might go see how the Turners are doing, but that's all." The sailor shrugged and continued on with his meal. Naminé looked thoughtful for a short moment before shaking her head.

"No, they've gone off with Jack again, just last week the three of them left on a new ketch. I don't know where the Pearl has gone."

Axel gave a little laugh. "That is quite a tale. He tells me it was eaten by the kraken, but I think I'd indulged him in just a bit too much of the vodka I'd gotten in."

Demyx looked to Roxas as the conversation proceeded around him. The blond had long since finished his plate, but still he sat in silence, regarding the rafters as if they were the Mona Lisa. The sailor just did not know what to make of it and he certainly did not understand what it was Axel continued to see in him.

"Well," Demyx said, revising his plans for the day in his head. "I suppose I will be lying around here like a slug, enjoying my time away from the ship."

Naminé noticed that Roxas had finished and attempted to gather his plate. It was a reactionary gesture, as it was her job at the inn, to bring food and clear it away again. However, Roxas stopped her hand, picking up his dishware and carrying back into the scullery of his own accord.

The other three watched him go in confusion.

"Axel," the girl began uncertainly.

Her employer stopped her with a sharp glance. "He doesn't mean anything by it. He just doesn't want you waiting on him."

Demyx was not entirely convinced that was the case but he was not in the mind to argue. Instead he gave the blonde a roguish grin,

"You can, of course, clear away my dishes, Naminé."

She smiled back, willing to let the uncomfortable subject drop. "And if I have no intentions?"

"Then I shall have to put in a complaint to your employer."

"You make a good argument, sir."

Then she swept them up and headed for the kitchen. Roxas had still not returned and Axel kept glancing toward the doors anxiously. When far too much time had passed the man got to his feet and hurried out.

For some reason, Demyx did not expect him back soon, so he went to fetch his sitar. He set himself up comfortably by the window and began to play. As Naminé was present, he chose something suitable for civilized company.

"Sparrows and cats will live in my shoe,  
Sooner than I will live with you.  
Fish will come walking out of the sea,  
Sooner than you will come back to me."  
_(chp. 1 – pg. 11)_

Axel returned to the inn much later than he should have. In his absence, Naminé and Demyx had been the ones to service several customers, checking in, checking out, and sitting down for lunch.

Axel also returned to the inn without Roxas. He looked quite forlorn, so Demyx chose not to berate him on his irresponsibility.

"Where has your boy gone now?" Demyx asked softly as his fingers wandered the taut strings of his instrument.

"He said he had to go to work for the rest of the afternoon," Axel murmured, he did not seem to believe want to accept it.

"What does he do?"

"He works with the jeweler a few streets from Grotto's."

That was all Demyx cared to know and from there he was prepared to sit and play his sitar in the hopes that it would help to settle Axel's stinging emotions.

"I don't know why does it, Demyx." Axel's wishes were not coinciding with his plans. "All he had to say was 'I have to go to work now, Axel. I'll be by after I've locked the store.' Does that really seem so strange?"

His friend considered his answer carefully. "He is strange."

Axel's green eyes lit up like lightning bugs. "He is wonderful though. I could spend the rest of my life just trying to get him to smile at me."

"I have seen no proof to support this wild affection of yours. You may well spend the rest of your life in that futile pursuit," Demyx usually was not used to being the voice of reason, but when dealing with Axel it was a matter of resignation. Someone had to tell him when he was being outrageous.

"I will love every minute of it," Axel vowed. The solemn cadence to his voice was disturbing, as if he truly meant the oath. Demyx was compelled to point one thing out,

"You don't seem to be enjoying it much now, what with him walking out on you."

The redhead returned with a sneer and no comment.

"Yes," Demyx continued on, jibing deeper. "The love you share is boundless like the raging sea."

"You know I hate the sea," Axel sighed. "I hate water. I don't really know why I've stayed in Venice so long. I liked Strasburg so much better, why did I ever leave?"

"Because Luxord left you with all his debts and, were you to return, you would be thrown into jail for evading them."

"That was rhetoric, Demyx. Rhetoric."

"I do not believe you in the slightest."

* * *

The version of Peter S. Beagle's '_The Last Unicorn_' that I've taken excerpts from is the Special Anniversary Edition published by ROC (with illustrations by Mel Grant). I do not claim to have written any of these aforementioned quotations and all will be noted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Demyx knew that over the course of the next three months he would have plenty of time to get bored, but he offered to assist Leon and Naminé prepare dinner all the same. It never hurt to be courteous and helpful. He was going to and fro from the kitchen bringing out cutlery and napkins to set upon the tables.

Roxas and Axel were at the bar, not talking, which did not surprise Demyx at all. He had heard barely a handful of words from Roxas. However, on one trip out, he spotted Axel reaching with one, long, delicate finger to tilt up the younger man's chin with the intent of kissing him soundly on the mouth. Demyx was rather stunned the see the blond return the gesture. He was rooted to the floor for one involuntary and embarrassing moment, watching avidly as their lips moved and Axel's tongue slipped into Roxas' mouth.

Thankfully, Demyx was able to exit the room again before either man was to notice that he had been staring.

For the rest of night he felt just a touch off. He kept glancing at Roxas, wondering what he could possibly be thinking about after kissing Axel. The boy still did not speak much, but, and Demyx could have been mistaken, he thought he saw something happy or at least pleasant sparkling in his ice-blue eyes.

Dinner came and went and Demyx still only heard a few choice phrases push themselves past Roxas' stubborn lips. Even once most of the customers had gone or turned in for the night and they sat at the bar drinking themselves sick, Roxas remained quiet. Although, his cheeks did become a lovely rosy shade as the alcohol worked its way through his system.

Even with the distraction of Roxas' endearing flush, Demyx felt himself falling prey to his mulish desire to bring something out of Roxas. So, he sent quite intently upon starting some kind of conversation. The easiest and most direct way seemed to be asking the boy about himself. Where had he come from? Why had he come?

Demyx watched as the blonde's eyes turned downwards regarding the droplets of condensation that had dripped from his glass onto the wooden surface of the bar. He dipped his finger into them, drawing nonsense designs on the wood, they quickly dried away.

"I came from…" He sighed deeply and left his sentence at that, turning instead to the other. "And I came because I did not want to be there any longer."

The sailor and the barkeep knew instantly that these had been the wrong questions to ask him, for his eyes would not rise again and his mouth would not open. Shortly thereafter, he rose steadily to his feet and bid them goodnight. Once again, Axel did not follow him, only watched after him longingly.

"Another prize you have there," Demyx noted drunkenly. Axel gave him a halfhearted glare.

"One man's trash," the redhead whispered.

* * *

It took quite some time before Roxas seemingly forgave Demyx for the harmless prying into his past. The blond would not so much as look at him for a week. However, Demyx was not certain that it was a treatment solely for him. It was as if a chill aura had surrounded the boy. No one was able to get close to him, until one morning, Demyx shambled down the stairs, spotting him conversing with Axel, a faint and stunning smile on his face. 

Demyx caught a glimpse, in one painful and violent moment, of what Axel always spoke of when his words wandered towards Roxas. It was…it was like singing. It was beautiful and heavenly and natural and reminded Demyx so much of the sea.

Unwilling to ruin their moment, Demyx came over silently and sat himself beside Axel without intervening into their conversation.

"You are an idiot, Axel," Roxas said softly. "You know very well that you won't be able to cut a deal with Auron."

"I can still try," Axel purred. He was obviously no longer being serious, just simply basking in the radiance of Roxas' amusement. "Maybe if I offer to pay him with Naminé? Then I wouldn't have to worry about Leon getting his greasy hands onto her."

"His hands are only greasy, Axel." Roxas said his name as if it were a taunt in its own right. "Because your menu is positively vile."

"I am insulted."

"I hope so. There is enough grease in your recipes to slide an elephant through the doorway."

"I know what else I could slide—"

Roxas, his face having turned quite red, told him to be quiet. Demyx, like Axel, was unable to contain his grin.

"Takes a bit to make a sailor blush," Demyx offered, slyly. The blond sent him a glare, but the full force of his anger was not behind it.

"The filth that comes from his mouth is excessive," Roxas murmured, turning to the side, trying to look prim and proper and disapproving.

In retaliation, Axel leaned toward Demyx's ear, whispering loudly, "I once heard him utter an oath that would have made Cid's ears turn red."

Demyx remembered well the gruff and mouthy first mate from when they had been apprenticed together on the _Highwind_. He had nearly set Demyx to tears one afternoon while scolding him for some moronic prank that had been Axel's in the first place. His mouth was a legend, which all cabin boys shared amongst one another and secretly hoped to emulate. One had to wonder just what would provoke such foulness from one so calm and introvert as Roxas.

Naminé came bustling into the room, a small white flower tucked over her ear. Axel gritted his teeth and pretended not to see, even as Roxas called her over and complimented her on it. Demyx had to smile seeing the boy aggravating Axel openly.

"So," Axel grunted, still trying to control his temper. "Where are the two of you off to today?" He looked expectantly between Demyx and Roxas.

"I'll be working until this evening," Roxas ventured.

Demyx only shrugged his shoulders. "I may go down to piazza and have lunch. I can only stomach this grease for so long."

Roxas opened his mouth, shut it without saying anything, and then opened it again. "If you could wait until three, we could go together."

The people around him were almost too stunned to even blink. Naminé glanced over at him, puzzlement all over her pretty face. Axel was somewhere between pleased and jealous and Demyx was simply speechless.

"If you would like?" he offered cautiously.

The boy was embarrassed to have them all gaping at him. He seemed liable to withdraw his offer, so Demyx asserted his acceptance again. A small smile pulled at the corner of Roxas' mouth.

"Well, I will see you then." He got up and left without another word.

Axel turned to stare at Demyx.

"See?" he asked breathlessly.

And Demyx did.

* * *

He met Roxas promptly at three outside the jeweler's. The blond seemed somewhat surprised to see him there. 

"You did say to meet you," Demyx pointed out in reply to his shock. Roxas' face burned just slightly.

"That I did."

Together they took the back alleys, putting as much possible distance between themselves and the docks and the tourists. After some walking and searching, they found somewhere that was friendly to locals.

It was only amongst the native speakers that Demyx suddenly caught a strange accent hanging on the ends of Roxas' words. He mulled it over in his head, trying to place it with one of many wondrous lands he had visited in his travels. When it did not come to him, he eventually gave up, as he was averse to asking for the information firsthand.

For their meal they ordered a large bowl of pasta to split between them. Demyx did not have much money and Roxas said he was not hungry enough to eat the whole thing himself. Between two other people it may have seemed an intimate gesture, but to them it was only a matter of convenience.

The better part of their meeting was spent in silence. They drank sparingly from their small glasses of wine, listening to the talk of others around them. It reminded Demyx of the murmur of the sea, and he already felt the longing to return to the _Nocturne_. When he was on her, he never felt lonely, not like he did in this place full of people.

He was a little pathetic that way, even amongst a crowd that he was entertaining, receiving compliments on his sitar strumming, he could feel as if he were alone. It was on the ship or with his close friends that he truly felt as if he were a part of something. He wondered how Roxas felt, he wanted to ask and not doing so burned at his throat, but, somehow, he knew the boy would not answer.

At some point, while they were eating, the young blond seemed to realize his distress. Demyx caught him fiddling with his napkin, a look of anxiety on his face.

"Where are you from, Demyx?" he asked softly, unexpectedly.

Demyx felt himself smiling. It had taken much for Roxas to ask. "I'm from France, around Marseilles."

Roxas watched him quietly, although something flashed in his eyes to show that he had registered the response. "Is it nice there?" There was a hint of wistfulness in his voice that Demyx chose not to notice.

"Yes, nicer than Paris, I think, but I love the sea." It seemed a safe topic, so he pursued it. "How do you feel about the ocean?"

"While talking to a sailor it seems impolite to say I dislike it."

"There's no need to lie to me either."

"There's no need," Roxas parroted. "I quite like the ocean. It was a long sail here…" The delicate slip of information was not on purposeful. Demyx watched his eyes widen and his mouth shut firmly. He knew there would be no more talk about Roxas, so he continued on about himself.

"I haven't been back to Marseilles in years…I don't have any family left there, they've all moved inland toward the capital. I don't much mind it, my family never got along. Father only apprenticed me to the ship because he didn't know what else to do with me."

Roxas listened and heard every word, but he offered nothing more to the conversation. They finished their meal in that way, Demyx speaking in-between mouthfuls and Roxas nodding while sipping at his wine.

* * *

Into the third month of Demyx's leave a large man in the attire of the British military entered the Flurry of Dancing Flames. He had unruly black hair, shimmering eyes, and a smaller, blond, subordinate at his side. 

The two approached the bar and nodded politely to Axel, however it was clear they were not there for recreation. Demyx watched them with interest from his seat by the window and ceased the playing of his sitar. He half wished Roxas were there, just because he imagined the boy had never seen a fully bedecked Dragoon before.

"Pardon, sir, my name is Zack Allen," the dark-haired man said in passable Italian. "I am searching for a young man by the name of Roxas Sorour. I have something urgent to discuss with him and I was told that he would be here."

Axel eyed him warily. He knew the signs of something gone wrong, he was an expert in things gone wrong. However, Demyx recalled his friend's fervent desire for calm waters when it came to his beloved Roxas.

"He comes here sometimes in the evening," the redhead shrugged. "But there are many who do. I can't guarantee you that he'll be here tonight."

Zack did not seem at all perturbed. "Might you know where we would be able to find him?"

Axel scowled. "I don't make a habit of giving out my customers personal information."

"Are you saying you would do it for a fee?" Zack wondered, his weight shifted, presenting his right side a bit more prominently, on his belt hung a heavy purse.

Axel's scowl intensified. "I'm not."

Zack made a sound of resignation, turning slightly to survey the room. He caught Demyx's curious stare and raised an eyebrow of incitement.

"And you sir?"

"I'm just a sailor on furlough, sir," the musician responded coolly.

The young boy at Zack's side fidgeted irritably. He did not understand why his commander was allowing these Italians to lie to him so blatantly. Zack laid a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"Calm yourself, Cloud," he said with a smile. Then he returned his attentions to the barkeep. "Would it be possible to arrange a room for the night?"

There was no good reason to say no, so Axel begrudgingly found his ledger.

"Two beds?" he muttered grumpily.

"If at all possible," Zack confirmed, his smile as benign as a dove.

Axel tossed over the keys, forgetting courtesy what for his foul mood.

When the two men had gone, Demyx rose, stretching and yawning widely. "Guess I'll be off then." Axel caught his meaning and nodded.

Demyx wandered the back streets with a prickling at the base of his skull. What could a pair of Dragoons possibly want with Roxas? He heard the bell tolling and knew if he did not hurry Roxas would leave the jeweler's for lunch…

* * *

While he was gone, Zack and his young friend returned. Zack did not even seem to glance at the seat beside the window, but it was still obvious that he knew. 

"Where has that sailor gone?" he asked softly.

Axel shrugged. "I'm an innkeeper not a nanny."

"Just tell us where he's gone, you fucking Mick." The blond growled.

Axel bristled behind the counter. "Hold your tongue or I'll cut it out for you, boy. You look like a Sheep-Fucker who's forgotten himself, don't talk to me like I'm beneath you." He had not lost the ability to speak English throughout the years and, in the heat of his rage, his heritage poured itself forth. It had been years since he'd been back to Ireland, but he was loyal to his country's blood. Cloud stirred uneasily, as if ready to continue.

Zack gave his companion a reprimanding scowl. "That's enough, Cloud." He turned his calm gaze back to Axel, but he seemed to have lost some of his patience. "Sir, might I enquire as to your name? I must know who it is that is inhibiting the word of the Queen."

"Axel Murray, shall I write it nice and big so her ladyship can read it without having to get off her great fat arse?"

"You separatist piece of shit!" Cloud snarled, but again Zack laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, sir," he said, smiling.

"You can't do anything to me, you Brit," Axel growled. "Not while I'm a loyal citizen of Italia." He stressed the word loyalty. He had been a sailor on an Italian ship and he had lived a good deal of his life in Venice. Ireland was his lifeblood, but Italy was his home.

"I have no intention," Zack assured him, turning and heading for the door, his damn British boots clicking crisply. "However, should Roxas Sorour come here, please tell him that we are looking for him."

Axel and Cloud continued to throw silent insults at each other, until Zack called curtly for the boy. Even then the blond flipped him the bird on his way out.

Naminé peaked out from the kitchen area; she caught sight of the fury in Axel's green eyes.

"You can come out now," the man muttered, throwing himself violently into cleaning to bar.

"I wasn't eavesdropping," she offered hesitantly.

"It's good that you didn't come out."

"I…" She knew that.

"Wouldn't want those fucking crumpet-suckers taking you back off to merry ol' fuckin' England, now would we?"

She smiled at him sadly. "I wouldn't have gone."

"You would have. You're one of them." She'd been kidnapped from her British family, which had settled down in Africa.

"Axel," she protested. "I'm as Italian as you are."

"Which apparently isn't very." He scrubbed a hand back through his red hair anxiously. "Fucking teabags…Where do they get off? Noses in the air…calling me a damn Mick when my Italian is better than theirs, I'll tell you that."

Naminé laughed. "Better than most," she assured him. She walked away from him and began to sing a little song Demyx had taught her,

"Spiders and sowbugs and beetles and crickets,  
Slugs from the roses and ticks from the thickets,  
Grasshoppers, snails, and a quails' eggs or two—  
All to be regurgitated for you.  
Lullaby, lullaby, swindles and schemes,  
Flying's not near as much fun as it seems."  
_(chp. 4 – pg 45)_

Axel glanced up at her and her strange song. "What are you singing?" Had she said regurgitated?

Naminé flushed. "I learned it from Demyx, 'tis a bird's song."

Axel laughed. "Course it is."

* * *

Demyx did not make it to the jeweler's in time to stop Roxas. When he arrived at the small store he found the lights turned out and the door locked. He cursed under his breath and plopped himself down outside the door. He would have to wait, Roxas had to come back eventually, even if he did look quite the fool in the meantime. 

When the blond came wandering along down the empty street, Demyx was half asleep. He had to drag himself bodily from the comforting arms of unconsciousness.

"What are you doing here?" Roxas wondered, crossing his arms over his chest uncomfortably and looking away.

"There was some trouble at the Flame," Demyx began, but Roxas' eyes had turned to him in such a whip-snapping intense moment that he forget all about what he was saying.

Roxas pressed him when he was silent for too long. "Is everyone all right?"

Demyx's tongue felt too thick in his mouth. "Yeah, they were looking for you, actually…"

"Who was looking for me?" Roxas' eyes had lit up, the sailor had no idea what it was floating on their stormy waters, but it was vivid.

"Couple of Dragoons."

Roxas turned on heel at his words and began to run. Demyx…Demyx watched after him, rooted to the spot and stunned. Just like the first time he'd seen him.

* * *

Axel was still in a foul mood when Roxas burst in through the front door. His beautiful, wonderful, fabulous, splendorous Roxas was sweating and panting and was most definitely not there to see him. 

"Demyx…he said…"

"They've come and gone," Axel shrugged, inferring the question without much brainwork on his part.

Roxas struggled to control himself, his voice was steady and measured when he spoke again, too much so. "Will they be back?"

"I expect, they've rented rooms for the night," the redhead growled, still sour at the little Scottish prick following about his prissy British general like a puppy 'bout to piss itself.

Roxas left the doorway, where he'd been clutching the jamb; he left it wide open behind him. He came forward and collapsed onto one of the stools, sinking forward to rest his chin on the bar.

Naminé bustled by and shut the door and Axel kept his eyes on Roxas.

"What's going on?" He didn't want things to go wrong; he didn't want things to go wrong!

"I don't know yet," Roxas mumbled and that was all he would say.

* * *

Zack and Cloud came parading back into the Flame just after dinner. Demyx and Axel became very tense, watching them warily as Roxas approached. There were some quiet words shared between the commander and the blond. Then they headed upstairs, presumably, to Zack's room. 

"Who?" Roxas asked, leaning back against the door heavily. He looked shell-shocked and Cloud felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"Do you want me to read the list?" Zack went to the small desk and lifted up a sheet of papyrus.

He watched the battle fight itself between Roxas' eyes. The boy nodded, at length, and Zack began to read.

"Sora and Kairi Seger, Locke and Refia Sorour, Aladdin and Jasmine Ababwa, the Jenova triplets, Riku Pavlov— "

"Stop."

Zack did so, putting the paper, only half read, back onto the desk. His eyes moved slowly on their way to regard Roxas.

"What will you do, Roxas?" he whispered. There was something almost cruel on his face, but Cloud could not believe that Zack was honestly capable of being cruel. He would most definitely not harm someone so obviously defenseless, such as Roxas.

"I…" Roxas turned away, moving toward the window, staring out into the night at the alley below and whatever activity was going on between the two narrow walls. "I will find some way to…"

Zack approached him from behind; he had a sealed letter, which he put into the blonde's tiny hands.

"Where will you find passage?" he asked, holding the paper to Roxas' palm when the boy's fingers did not curl to take it.

"I will find it."

"Be quick, or it will be too late."

"I understand, thank you for coming so far to…Thank you."

Zack's smile looked sickly and Cloud never wanted to see the painful expression on his commander's face again.

"It was my duty."

Roxas' thin show of teeth was worse.

* * *

Roxas came back down the stairs within the hour, his friends tried to press him for information, but he simply said he was going home. Axel rounded the counter and followed him to the door; the blond did not seem to appreciate the sentiment. 

"What are you doing, Axel?" he growled tiredly.

His lover held his ground firm and looked him in the eye. "I'm walking you home because I'm worried about you."

Roxas looked like he was going to argue, his mouth opened and his eyes flared, but Axel laid a hand on his shoulder. He did not say a word, only touched him, and that was the end.

Roxas lived several miles away from the inn, his home was very small, hence his preference to the Flame. He had a toilet, a small kitchen, a bedroom, and the tiny front room that had to perform every other function he required of it. He did not spend much time there, but for sleeping, and Axel had not seen much of it.

So, when they arrived at the door, the redhead was somewhat surprised to be invited inside. He watched the way Roxas moved around on his own turf. It was the same way he treated everything else, as if it didn't matter. As if he knew it would be gone soon and it would only hurt him in the long run to pay any attention to it.

Axel's attention caught when Roxas carefully laid an unopened letter onto the low table of his receiving room.

"Do you want coffee, since you're already shirking your duties?" the blond offered.

_This place does not suit you at all, Roxas. _Axel thought despondently. _You deserve something wide-open and beautiful. I could even like the sea again if you were there._

"Please."

Roxas wandered toward his inadequate kitchen and, with effort, lit the stove and set on a kettle. When it was well on its own way, he began to come back, but paused in the doorway. He was staring at Axel oddly and his lover had no idea what to make of it.

"Nothing has happened," Roxas announced after a far too discomforting silence.

"Liar."

"Sometimes," Roxas admitted. "But it's true. Nothing has happened that effects you."

"What's yours is mine," the barkeeper insisted, he reached out to grab Roxas, but the boy danced back.

"That's rather greedy of you."

"I love you, Roxas," Axel said. It was all he had to say and he honestly believed it was all that mattered in this scenario. "If something has happened to you, tell me."

"What will you do once you have me for all time, Axel?" the younger replied, cocking his head to the side, his face becoming sharp and cynical. "I will always lie to you. I'm just like all your other terrible choices for companions."

Axel gaped at him, unseemly and rather like a fish. "Feel free to lie." He did not know how to explain to Roxas, however, that he was nothing like any person he had ever met before.

The way he responded seemed to confuse the other. The boy was staring again, his eyes narrowed and stormy. It was a self-defense mechanism, protecting himself from being hurt by something, Axel did not know what.

Then Roxas approached him cautiously like a deer stepping into the clearing, snuffling carefully for the scent of danger.

"I have to go away for a while."

Axel had known, the second he had heard Roxas' name come spilling forth from between Zack's lips, he had known. He was ready for it when Roxas confirmed it and his only reply was to offer out his hand. The blond took it tentatively and then Axel pulled him in, hugging him tightly.

"If you'll wait." The words pried themselves painfully from between Roxas' pale lips. His body shook because he was cold and afraid and Axel wanted to ask him why, but he did not know how.

"I can wait, but only if you promise to come back."

"I can't do that."

Axel felt the organ in his chest give a heartfelt thump.

"Axel?" Roxas' whisper was vulnerable and afraid. "Would you kiss me?"

"No," Axel returned, smiling. "I'll kiss you when you return. We'll both have to wait because I won't disappoint you. When I take you, it will be for good." Then he pulled away from Roxas' embrace, opening the door to leave. He only had one final message to leave in his wake. "Goodnight, I'm sorry about the coffee."

* * *

The version of Peter S. Beagle's '_The Last Unicorn_' that I've taken excerpts from is the Special Anniversary Edition published by ROC (with illustrations by Mel Grant). I do not claim to have written any of these aforementioned quotations and all will be noted. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sleep did not come easily to Demyx that night, he had lain tossing and turning for hours, wanting to find Roxas and ask him what had happened. He wanted to beat the information out of Axel, but neither option was truly viable. So, instead he had lain in his bed, tossing and turning for hours.

In the morning he rushed down the stairs to the common faster than any other morning. He expected Roxas to be there, he was so concentrated on forcing himself to hope that Roxas would be there that he almost could not believe it when Roxas truly was. He was sitting at his usual place, but without any breakfast before him.

"Roxas," Demyx began, uncertain but worried. Roxas did not allow him to flounder long.

"Does the _Nocturne_ take passengers?"

Demyx's brain tripped over itself in its attempts to be useful. "Sometimes."

"The charge?"

"Whatever Jecht decides is fair," Demyx answered rapidly.

"When does she dock at Venice?"

"She…she should be here any day. There's cargo to pick up, we give a week for all of it to arrive…"

Roxas' mouth twisted into something that had been a smile once, long, long ago.

The third day after his inquiry, Roxas and Demyx went together down to the dock where the boy got his first glimpse of the _Nocturne_. She was a sea-worthy vessel with a high, handsome prow.

Jecht stood at the bottom of the gangplank conversing animatedly with some nervous looking merchant. All around him sailors scrambled about like ants, loading crates, scraping the hull, swabbing the deck. High up on the mast there were several cabin boys moving about, searching for rips in the sail.

Demyx rushed to work, casting Roxas one consolatory glance. The boy shrugged and approached the captain with a calm air. He waited silently as the man finished tormenting the sweating trader.

Jecht turned his worn, bearded face toward the pale creature awaiting his graces. "What is it you need from me, be quick, boy."

"Are you in the mind to take a passenger with you to Egypt?" He was a soft-spoken thing with eyes sparkling like treasure. His Italian was…Hmm, interesting.

"For a price," Jecht shrugged his strong shoulders; he was somewhat surprised when Demyx jumped down from the deck to land beside them.

"I'll pay it, sir."

"A friend of yours?" the captain guessed, eyeing his mate and the lithe city boy both alongside him. He made his decision swiftly. "All right, if he's up to a the journey and cramped quarters." But the boy had gotten there, hadn't he?

A brief look of relief lit up Demyx's face before he hurried to assist Tidus in carrying a heavy crate with a _Fragile_ label painted on the side.

Jecht found it all baffling, but he did not care to investigate. He only returned his thoughts to his newest take-on.

"Be prepared to board in five days."

* * *

Their departure was not heralded with flowers and crying women. The _Nocturne _left the Venetian port with only two people bearing witness. Axel and Naminé came and stood watching, half because Roxas was aboard and half because they always came to see Demyx off. 

The days, on the ship were…well…Demyx remembered the beautiful girl all those months ago, the thrill in her eyes as she watched the surf.

Demyx looked at Roxas then and his breath caught. His eyes, blue as sea and clear as sky, were the epitome of sadness as they observed the foam leaping and churning at the boat's wake. Every last line of him was a relief of frozen grief, his skin, wintry alabaster, even under the twinkling of the sun.

Demyx jumped down to the deck close by him, looking out over the sea he loved, searching for what Roxas saw, searching for the grief more endless than the very Deep, so that he could do away with it. He had no words to encompass the depth of his feeling. Instead he laid a warm, weathered hand onto Roxas' shoulder and prayed he did not burn him. The blond did not turn to look at him and his voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Have you ever read 'The Last Unicorn'?"

Demyx gave an uncomfortable laugh and Roxas quirked an eyebrow subtly.

"My mother read it my sister and me," he murmured. "It's about a mad king who steals all the unicorns from the world and traps them beneath the sea. They jump in the waves, so close to freedom but too afraid of Haggard's great Red Bull to take the final step onto the sands and escape."

Demyx would not have been surprised if Roxas had begun to cry snow.

"That is me, Demyx, the last comes to save them…but the bull does not battle, he conquers and the only way to escape is to leave yourself behind. I can feel my body dying around me and I am forgetting! …And Axel is like Haggard…he keeps nothing near him that does not make him happy and nothing makes him happy…so he forgets it and what he forgets not only ceases to exist, but never really existed in the first place…"

His words left him like the flood of tears that refused to fall.

"I love you." Demyx did not understand why he thought then was the time, should he have had his way, he never would have said those earnest words.

Roxas made a terrified bleating sound and turned to stare at him, his eyes stormy like the ocean. She was the only mistress Demyx had ever desired to serve. "You're crazy"

"That's nothing that I didn't already know."

Demyx had leaned down, close to his face and Roxas was afraid and his misery ran deeper than the grayish veins he could see through the thin paper of his wrists.

He was going to kiss Roxas, full on the mouth, but the blond turned his head at the last moment to watch the unicorns in their foam prison. Instead, Demyx's lips pressed to his temple. His arms wound around his body like rope; held tight with knots.

"Axel loves you." He intoned apathetically. "You make him happy and he wants nothing but you."

"He is ignorant of what I am, he knows not what he will do once he has me." Roxas' voice had become gravely and bitter. His fist unclenched and he pushed it into his pocket, drawing out the letter he had held tenderly since the moment it had left Zack Allen's care.

"I don't want your secrets," Demyx said and then walked away, his heart in his throat, choking him.

* * *

Egypt was days off yet and the crew tried not to notice Roxas sleeping in Demyx's hammock. He was always alone, but in the night…who knew. No one would speak against him though; his sorrows gave him so much beauty; mystery and magnetism. Even if they did not love him, they wanted to help him. 

The fact of the matter was that Roxas and Demyx did not sleep together. Demyx barely touched him at all; Roxas was more sacred and more beloved than the vestal virgins of old.

Sometimes, he took himself in hand and sometimes they were both bare and Roxas caressed his sun-kissed skin, but those were secret and snatched moments that they both quickly blocked out.

There was a question burning in a bronze cage, trapped like a Harpy. He was not ready to ask, he was not ready for the answer.

Egypt was drawing near.

* * *

The day they landed at Cairo, Jecht did something peculiar and ordered Demyx to make sure Roxas found what he was looking for without trouble. His subordinate stared at him as if he had sprouted a second head, but he was not going to squander his captain's rare moment of insight and good will. He followed Roxas down the gangplank and through the city's dusty streets. 

He was surprised when they left the cover of the buildings and began to wander out into the open Southland. Demyx was not sure how long they meandered down the dirt road, but when they arrived at the small town, they were sweating and covered into travel grime.

Roxas did not stop to rest or eat or drink, he marched on resolutely toward one of the large stone buildings. Nothing of the encampment looked to have been built by the Egyptians themselves, Demyx quickly surmised it to be a British settlement. However, he still could not conclude just what business Roxas had. Someone held the final secret, the crumpled letter in his pocket might, or perhaps it was locked away in Roxas himself.

The inside of the building was dark and cold and there were men in British military garb milling back and forth between the main entrance and a room farther inside, which Demyx could not see what for a metal door.

Demyx had half expected to see Zack Allen and his Scottish puppy come ambling along to greet them, but neither officer was in sight. Instead, Roxas approached a clerical woman in a cotton blue dress. She had a bronze plate set upon her desk, which read the name of Belle Séverin.

"How can I help you?" she inquired. She spoke Arabic, but Demyx was finely attuned to the French accent that clung tightly to her well-sculpted words. He did not understand the meaning, only basked in the sounds.

Roxas, full of secrets, as always, responded in the same language. "My name is Sorour."

The young woman bent intently over a long sheet of papyrus, scanning each name. When she looked up, she had something akin to pity in her eyes. "Would you like me to get General Almasy immediately…or…"

"Please."

She rose for her station without another word, slipping between several men and into the back room. She was gone for quite a long time, but Roxas remained standing before the desk and so did Demyx.

When the woman returned she had a tall blond man in her wake. General Almasy gave Roxas a sharp, unpleasant grin. He spoke in English, a language Demyx could comprehend.

"Roxas."

"Seifer."

"Sir."

"No."

There were people listening to their conversation and that made Seifer growl. He turned, glaring at anyone unlucky enough to catch his eye. Demyx felt his hackles rising, and it was only Roxas' gentle hand on his shoulder that stopped him from attacking like a dog protecting his master.

"Come. We cannot conduct our business out here, can we?"

Through the metal door there was another room lined wall to wall with shelves of books, in the center there was a staircase leading down. It went on, and on and on, taking one deep underground; the passageways lit by flickering torches. Seifer Almasy led them through the twisting earthen maze. He had no idea what the purpose of this place was, but, a strange smell wafted to Demyx's noise and he tried not to gag.

"It was Captain Allen who insisted on this, Roxas," the man whispered, but the sound echoed back and forth between the fetid walls. "I hope you thanked him." His voice carried the sentiments of self-contradiction.

The cavern they entered was…it…the floor was a carpet of corpses. Demyx was not a delicate minded person, but never before had he seen a room carpeted with corpses. His eyes found Roxas' and they shared something, they found anchor in each other. Almasy's voice had lost all amusement.

"Identify who you can, and we will make the funeral arrangements." Seifer said he would be close by and then wandered away, apparently unable to take such a concentrated amount of death.

Demyx's throat felt clogged. There was something to be said, but he couldn't say it, so he fell back onto something simpler. He hugged Roxas round the shoulders and sang slow and quavering,

"What is sea-born dies on land,  
Soft is trod upon.  
What is given burns the hand—  
What is gone is gone."  
(_chp. 2 – pg. 25_)

They left after Roxas had carefully navigated the bodies like a minefield. He found each face he recognized and once he was sure he had identified all he could, he brought Seifer back, pointing to them, one by one.

One would almost wonder why, if the military was aware of who had died, they needed Roxas to give names to faces. Most of the faces were unrecognizable, burned away or blown away or no head at all and Roxas could only discern them from small, intimate details that he knew for some reason.

Demyx's head was awhirl with confusion and longing and, admittedly, terror.

General Almasy called for several subordinates to carry the indicated corpses up to the surface to prepare for burial. There were over ten of them, more than just the few names Roxas had allowed Zack to read.

"Are you staying for the funeral?" Seifer inquired.

"Yes."

"Sir."

"Seifer!" Roxas snapped, his frustration, and his grief, hung heavy on the dank air. "I did not serve under you."

"No," the taller blond agreed thoughtfully. "No, you didn't. You never did understand it was a matter of respect, though. Not for me, but for the others. Relm called me sir."

"You son of a bitch!" The words came rumbling from some secret place in Roxas, as did the tears—which, as Demyx had suspected on the ship, what felt like years ago—they were few and frosty, more like snowflakes than tears really.

"The others respected me," Seifer repeated dangerously, and then he exited, leaving Roxas shaking with an impotent rage.

"Fuck you, Almasy!" the boy screamed after him.

Demyx approached him then, pulling him into his arms fully. "Roxas."

"That bastard…" the blond whispered brokenly.

* * *

That night they walked along the Nile because it was there to walk along. It detracted from some of the things Demyx felt he finally had to ask. The funeral was the next day and the _Nocturne_ had four days at Cairo. 

"Do you want to say something?" It was ineloquent, but he was not going to try cajoling Roxas.

He did not really expect Roxas to tell him anything.

* * *

_Relm was sitting in his mother's lap and he was sitting on the floor polishing his father's boots, hoping to surprise him._

_Refia was reading to them from a paperback book in her hands, the words washing over them soothing and meaningful. It was a beautiful story with magic and unicorns and monsters and mad kings and love. _

_Relm liked the unicorn the best and Roxas thought poor, pathetic Schmendrick was funny._

_They had just finished the fifth chapter when a knock came to the door. It was just past noon and opening to door let in a blast of hot, dry air. A gaggle of children stood on the step looking sheepish at varying degrees._

"_Can Roxas and Relm come play?" Riku asked._

"_Please!" Sora added.

* * *

_

_The Jenova triplets were grounded again for sneaking into the excavation sight. Aladdin and a few others had gone up to spend the day in Cairo with Jasmine. Sora and Kairi had snuck off somewhere together._

_Which left Riku, Roxas, and Relm; and Relm confessed she did not want to interrupt her work on her latest painting._

_So, Riku and Roxas wandered out of the house, full of teenage boredom and some resentment toward their friends for not being around to entertain them._

_At least there were the two of them._

"_Where do you think Kairi and Sora went?" Roxas inquired dully, kicking at a rock with little to no malice. It was too hot to be really angry._

_Riku was quiet at his side for a suspicious amount of time. Roxas glanced up at him expectantly._

"_I saw them kissing."_

"_What?" Roxas felt something unpleasant stir in his stomach. Kairi was like a sister and Sora was like a brother so his brother and sister were kissing? He did not like it._

"_When Sephiroth marched through with his caravan and we all came out to see. They weren't there, so I went to find them. They were behind the military depot." Riku had stopped walking and was scuffling his shoe unhappily against the ground. "They don't know I know. Yet. Ever."_

"_It is kind of disgusting," Roxas agreed._

_Riku looked up sharply, but said nothing.

* * *

_

"_What do you think?"_

_Roxas tried not to answer; he tried not to look at Riku at all. "I…" They had all grown up here; they were as Egyptian as the sand, even if many of their parents had immigrated to the area for various jobs. They had adapted and changed and their blood was full of sand, not snow or tulips or shamrocks or whatever they had known before._

_Riku's family had come from Russia, Sora's from Holland, Kairi's from Belgium._

"_Roxas?"_

"_I…"

* * *

_

"_Riku?"_

"_I'm joining Almasy."_

"_I…"_

"_I won't let those Camel-Jackers take anything from me."_

"_I understand."_

_Riku's eyebrow shot up. "Do you? I don't think you do, Roxas."_

"_What do you mean?" Roxas asked uneasily. He hugged his arms to himself and looked away. Riku turned his head back with a hand on his cheek._

"_Your name is Sorour. Your family will be one of the first they destroy. Not only is your father Egyptian but he married a Swedish woman and had children; blond, blue-eyed, beautiful children. What's more he works for the Brits." Riku's eyes were intense; not their usual serene aquamarine but something likened to the sickly color of the sky before a storm._

"_You think the fighting will come this close to Cairo?" Roxas rejoined, trying to sound incredulous and make Riku feel stupid, but it was hard, what for the way the other boy was touching him. _

"_It will come." That was Riku's only cryptic warning before he leaned in close, pressing their lips together. It was a dry kiss with sand and confusion pushed up between them._

"_Riku?" the blond whispered uncertainly._

_The ruskie shook his head, the look on his face was so tender that Roxas kind of began to understand. He realized that he had always understood, he just…_

"_Riku," he repeated, stunned by himself and by Riku and by the world going on around them and what it had done to them._

_Riku kissed him again, softer, moister. _

"_Riku."

* * *

_

_He was not one of Seifer's subordinates to be ordered around. He was a member of the group, he opposed the Muslim attempts to remove the Egyptians and take over as strongly as anyone, but he did not take orders from Seifer Almasy._

_It bothered him when he saw the adoration shining in Relm's eyes or when he heard Riku parroting back Seifer's radical ideas.

* * *

_

_The day Kairi turned twenty, Sora proposed to her. Relm and Jasmine waited on Kairi for the day, helping her into her dress and assuring her that, no, Kairi, honey, Sora was not going to change his mind._

_Their wedding was simple, and unrefined. It bordered on barbaric with its mixing and matching of customs. _

_Afterwards, when they had all dispersed, friends and family alike— all of them knowing exactly where the newly-weds were and what they were doing—Riku and Roxas walked down the Nile's edge together. _

_Riku reached out and took his hand, squeezing gently._

_Roxas felt the first stirrings pangs of panic.

* * *

_

_They were worse. They were worse than the Muslims. They were worse than terrorist. They were worse than murderers. _

_Seifer said that in war there were casualties._

_Roxas could only think of what he would say to his father. What _would_ he say? What if his mother found out?_

"_Roxas." Riku reached out to him, trying to comfort him, but Roxas drew back, staring at him. He was covered in blood, both of them were covered, head to foot in bright red blood._

"_Don't," the blond protested, fleeing the scene leaving Seifer and all his cronies._

Why?_ Why did they listen to him?_

"_Roxas!" Riku chased after him and Roxas wanted to feel warmed by it, but he couldn't! He just couldn't!_

"_Don't, Riku, don't. I have to…I have to go."_

"_Roxas, what are you—"_

"_I killed people today, Riku." _

"_You didn't—"_

"_I did! I held the gun in my hands and I…" _

"_It's us or them, Roxas! I won't lose you. I'll kill as many of them as I have to!"_

_Roxas stared. "No…"_

"_I won't let them kill Sora and Kairi. I want to see their kids and I want to spoil them! I want to see the look on Relm's face when someone buys one of her paintings!" Riku grabbed him by the shoulders, gripping hard. "I want to be there for Aladdin and Jasmine's wedding! I won't let them come here and take it from me! I won't just stand by!"_

_Roxas broke free from his grip, somewhere, trapped, between resolute and scared. He tried to look Riku in the eyes before he left, but he just couldn't.

* * *

_

"I got on the first ship I found and when it docked I got on another. I…went like that for a long time, just sailing around until I got off at Venice. I was going to get on another ship, but Axel found me first."

Demyx was not looking at Roxas as they continued, their feet leading back toward the encampment. The words were still sinking in, Roxas' secrets. His childhood, his family, and the boy he had been in love with, and the terrorist organization he had been a part of in order to protect it all. The nameless people he had killed. The loyalties he'd left behind. Demyx tried to imagine Roxas a cold-blooded killer and he failed.

"I love you," Demyx said helplessly. The tales had not succeeded in driving him further away. They had intensified the feelings he had begun to develop back in Venice, and had acknowledged on the ship. He wanted to be the one to help Roxas to overcome it. He wanted it to be him and it was selfish and stupid.

"Demyx," Roxas' voice was a tired whine. "I…"

"This is up to you, Roxas," Demyx muttered, stopping while Roxas continued to walk ahead. "It's about what you want."

"I can't just pick between you and Axel and Riku and myself," the blond lamented. Several feet away he stood, his back stiff and his head bowed.

"Axel and I will take care of you and Riku is dead." Demyx had not meant to be so blunt, it felt cruel. "All you have to decide is whether you want to stay with him in Venice, where you can be safe and loved and secure for the rest of forever if you want. Or if you want to stay on the ship with me and be safe and loved and secure and see amazing things until the day you die."

Or, that was what Demyx wanted to say, but, before he could, Roxas pressed up against him, holding him close and kissing him.

Demyx's eyes fluttered shut as he clutched Roxas to him, however when he opened them, hoping to catch Roxas' face at the height of passion, he saw nothing but blue, blue, blue.

There was the love in those eyes but something was happening. Roxas was changing. It was…like the regretless, immortal, unicorn finally coming to rest in its human guise.

"Your first love is to the sea," Roxas mumbled.

Demyx laughed faintly. "It could be you."

Roxas kissed him again, taking away his breath, making him shut up. "It could be. You could love me and we could be happy, but…we would lose the land."

Demyx knew what he meant and he hated himself for it. "The ocean is bigger."

"Harsh and impersonal and unsteady and…"

"Roxas?"

"Yes?"

"I will love you as long as I can,  
However long that may be…"  
(_chp 11 – pg. 156)_

"And," Demyx smiled, resigned and hurt and loving it so thoroughly that he was slightly hysterical. "It will be a very long time."

"I'm sorry."

"Right now? Just love me."

"…I do."

* * *

_To have sex with his lover's dearest friend the eve of his family and friends' funeral…_It was best not to think.

* * *

Roxas did not stay long after the funeral. As soon as he was satisfied that they were all put to rest, he began the trek back to Cairo. Demyx only had one more day before the _Nocturne_ set sail for many, many months. He wondered if Roxas would stay with him, or if Roxas would find passage back to Venice immediately or…He sighed. This wound would sting for a long time. It was infected as well because he could not be angry with Axel and he could not be angry with Roxas and he could not be angry with himself. He had to swallow all his pride and all his irrational feelings and hurry along his acceptance. It burned on the way down. 

The blond boy at his side was at least consoling, was beautiful and courteous and seemingly coming into his own and…Demyx suddenly realized that it felt strange to think of Roxas as a boy suddenly.

Since meeting him three months prior, it had been fitting. Roxas was younger than either he or Axel. He was smaller in height and stature and his face simply radiated with the shyness of a child with an undercurrent of the secrecy of a man.

Now he was Roxas, twenty-six years old and looking every bit a man.

"Are you going?" Demyx felt old and pathetic, he was thirty-four, just now meeting the love of his life and losing him in the same fell swoop.

"Tomorrow," Roxas promised.

In the morning Demyx saw him onto a ship back to Venice.

"I'll bring something back from Morocco for you."

Roxas caressed his cheek, as much of a goodbye and an ending as Demyx could have ever asked for.

* * *

He had spotted Axel before he even stepped off the gangplank; that red hair was hard to miss. Roxas ran toward him, shoving through the crowd and, when he at last came to where Axel and Naminé, stood he nearly jumped into Axel's arms and kissed him. 

Surprised and pleased, the man did not protest, only held him tightly while Naminé tried not to stare.

"You came back," Axel panted, nuzzling him warmly as if they were not standing at the crowded dock with people staring.

"No, I didn't," Roxas replied and then kissed him again.

* * *

He was back in Venice again, and, this time, he jumped off the ship, his boots touching the ground for the first time in months. 

It was hard to be back again, but he trudged along nonetheless. He was nearly across the first bridge when someone caught his arm. At first, Demyx thought it was a pickpocket, but, when he turned, his breath caught.

Roxas. _(andalsoaxel) _Roxas

His heart twisted, but he did nothing to indicate it.

"A little birdy told me you would be coming soon," Roxas said, smiling a smile of true pleasure.

"Jecht ruined the surprise did he?" Demyx laughed. "Who's minding the inn?"

"Naminé and Leon." Axel responded.

"You left them alone together?" Demyx was, quite frankly, shocked.

"Naminé is a big girl," Axel admitted wearily, as if the line had been rehearsed many a time. "Can we hurry back now?"

Roxas let out a delighted sound and grabbed Axel's hand, tugging him along through the crowd. Demyx followed them silently. It really did hurt, but what was he supposed to do? 'Axel, give me Roxas or I may have to kill you out of jealousy and want and need?' No…He supposed he could worship from afar.

That was the kind of person he was. Maybe. Or something. He loved the sea without ever expecting something in return. Roxas could be the same.

Axel was the type to take what he wanted…

He had always been better at taking what he wanted…

"If I danced with my feet  
As I dance in my dreaming,  
As graceful and gleaming  
As Death in disguise—  
Oh, that would be sweet,  
But then would I hunger  
To be ten years younger,  
Or wedded, or wise?"  
(_chp. 10 – pg. 131) _

* * *

_End_

* * *

The version of Peter S. Beagle's '_The Last Unicorn_' that I've taken excerpts from is the Special Anniversary Edition published by ROC (with illustrations by Mel Grant). I do not claim to have written any of these aforementioned quotations and all will be noted.


End file.
